I feel ya. I look at my main story and say, 'oh wow! Look at all the reviews!' Thank see that only half the people reviewed and I feel cheated out on life. I really liked this one! Its really sweet... Oh how I love Zelink.
Anyway, your a really good writer, I really hope that you can take joy in writing orginal stories since you no longer write fanfics, and it would be great to see your name on a book one day.

Oh how true that is. Your description of internal confliction is well done but the length of the story itself dosen't compliment the mood you were trying to set. To me, it seemed Link dissapeared almost as quickly as he reappeared. Besides that though, it was very well done and I hope to see more of your writing.

I'm not a lover of romance, but this was touching. Although I still don't think an actual Link/Zelda marriage would be best, I doubt anyone could be better friends and allies than they. No one could understand Zelda more than Link could.

I have to say... Kinda randomly too, but.. Evil Riggs-san's review is the strangest I've ever seen. - In a good way. I can't tell whether it was a compliment or something else, but that's a pretty cool way to review if you don't mind extra stories in reviews... about stories?.. ;

Ahem!.. Well, anyway, Hitokiri-sensei. That was great! - I love when Link returned and Zelda's emotions came across loud and clear of course. - You have a knack for that. -

Well Keep it up, Hitokiri-sensei. -

I hope you enjoy writing these stories as much as we seem to love reading them. -

A tiny, claustrophobic shop of curiosities. Across the shelves are strewn glass jars of spices, grinning skulls, bundles of roots, glimmering puzzle boxes, organs suspended in pickling preservatives, and remote controls with the serial numbers filed off. Light, tangy incense smoke wafts through the air. Underneath it is a smell of mildew and slow death.

The front door opens, ringing a series of bells. A short, shaggy man enters the shop with his hands stuffed in his pockets. He approaches the front desk.

Behind that desk is a tiny, shrunken woman of indeterminate age, race, or origin. Her skin hangs from her bones as if it were draped on in disgusted haste. She smokes a pipe carved from heartwood.

"Can I help you?" she growls.

"Yes," the man says tentatively. "I was wondering if you have any . . . any . . ." he lowers his voice conspiratorially, " . . . fan fiction."

The woman grins with hideous yellow-green teeth. She sweeps a hand backward, to a long row of glass jars behind the desk. Each contains a veritable rainbow candy mountain of multi-colored pills. "What type do you want, mister?"

The woman hops off a tall stool and waddles to one of the jars. She opens the dusty top and scoops out a single green capsule. The man fumbles with his wallet and plunks a wad of bills down on the counter. The ugly, rotten smile appears again as the woman hands the pill off to the man. On its side is dimly printed, "Can I Let You Go?".

Shaking, he swallows it immediately, with no water. Within seconds, the reaction is clear.

"Weird . . . but pleasant." He smiles and draws his fingers across his face. "It's different. Something . . . fun. Clever. But nuanced. I like it. It's not a perfect feeling, but a good one. Thank you!"

Acting a little stoned now, the customer pats a skull lightly. He disappears through the front door with a curious little smile on his face.